


maybe i'm the same as all those men

by himbosamevans



Category: Glee
Genre: Blow Jobs, Blow Jobs in a Car, Car Sex, I wrote this for me but you guys can read it if you want, M/M, Set in S4, kind of kurt friendly? like blaine thinks of him but its bittersweet, wow that last tag is concise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:40:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24780049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/himbosamevans/pseuds/himbosamevans
Summary: "I’m not playing anymore games. Say the word and I’ll leave you alone.” At Blaine’s incredulous expression, he lowers his hands. “I’m serious, Blaine.”Blaine looks back at his glass, pushing it around gently with one hand, the rim leaving a wet circle of condensation on the counter. He sucks in air through his teeth, and turns back to Sebastian with a scrunched up expression, like it’s painful to say — it almost is. “Youarekind of hot.”(Or: Blaine is lonely. Sebastian is a willing aid.)
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Sebastian Smythe
Comments: 3
Kudos: 42





	maybe i'm the same as all those men

**Author's Note:**

> i be like: disappears for a month then writes this in one night(!) at 2am instead of finishing any of the 6 wips i have begging for attention atm

Blaine is lonely.

Not just emotionally — though, definitely that, too — but he’s always been a very tactile person, and, though of course Kurt was in New York before the break-up, now he doesn’t even have the comforting memories, the dirty texts, the phantom touch to rely on. He feels starved.

He’s sitting on his bed — another Friday night doing homework — and he just wants to _be_ _around_ people. Not even have a meaningful conversation, or anything. Just be near someone, and bask in the closeness. His hand hovers over his iPhone, considering for a moment asking if Tina or Sam want to go see a movie, or something, but it just doesn’t feel fully right. Like, all he really wants is someone who understands him. He knows if he prodded a little further at himself that he’d realise that all he really wants is _Kurt_ but — he doesn’t want to think about that right now.

Moving his hand from his phone, he stands and paces the two steps to his dresser; in the top drawer, buried under pamphlets and old school handouts, is his fake ID. He rifles through the pieces of paper until he unearths it, scoffing at himself and turning it in his hands, dragging the tip of his finger around the curved, plastic edge.

He really tries to not think about anything on the way there — he doesn’t think as he slides the ID into his wallet, he doesn’t think as he slips out of the front door, and he really doesn’t think as he pulls up outside Scandals, drumming the balls of his hands on the steering wheel.

It’s raining — drizzling, really — and the neon of the signs outside are marred, blurry through the windscreen. Blaine bites his lip and buries his face in his hands; what is he _doing?_ If Kurt could see him now —

He pulls on the latch to open the car door, stepping out and locking the car behind him as he walks up to the bar.

Blaine slides onto the barstool, smilingly self-consciously at the bartender and ordering only a Coke; he has no designated driver tonight, and he doesn’t really feel like getting drunk, anyway. He just wants to absorb the bustle of the atmosphere, feel the music thrum through him, maybe dance a little later on.

“Blaine?”

Blaine blinks, and turns on the stool towards the sound; he can’t help but smile a little when he sees who it is, if even just out of politeness. He could have predicted this.

“Sebastian. Hi. I forgot you, er — you kind of live here, don’t you?”

“That’s certainly one way of putting it. Where else would I be on a Friday night?” Sebastian smirks, but his smile drops a little as he looks over Blaine’s shoulder. “Where’s Judy Garland?”

“Judy —“ Blaine begins, confused, but he cuts himself off, rolling his eyes. “Oh. New York.” He takes a sip from the straw of his drink.

“New York, huh?” Sebastian slips onto the stool opposite him, waving his hand absent-mindedly to signal for the bartender. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Blaine. “And what does he think about you showing up to a place like this?”

“It doesn’t concern him,” Blaine says, shrugging, and then, quieter, “we broke up. So.”

“Oh?”

Blaine makes a little hum of confirmation, but Sebastian’s face is unreadable and unexpected; Blaine, in truth, had fully expected him to go full apex predator, all flirty eyes and smarmy grins. Instead, he looks — what, sympathetic?

“That’s too bad. For you, I mean,” Sebastian turns to flash a grin at the bartender, taking the beer presented to him. “Obviously this is good news for me.”

Oh, right, there it is.

“So — what happened, killer?” Sebastian continues despite Blaine’s silence, and he leans forward a little on his stool. “Were the choir-boy vocals just a tiny bit too pitchy for you, in the end?”

Blaine is silent for a moment before speaking. “I cheated on him.” He says finally, and he looks down at his drink, tracing the rim of the glass with his finger. He supposes if there were anyone who wouldn’t judge him for that, it would be Sebastian.

His eyes flicker up when Sebastian mock-gasps, but he’s still smiling — in _his_ way, his utterly _Sebastian_ way, like he’s sizing Blaine up before he eats him. “You cheated, and you didn’t think to call me? I’m hurt, Blaine. Truly.” He presses a hand to his chest as if to convey sincerity.

Blaine huffs a joyless laugh, choosing to look around the bar at the decorations pinned to the wall rather than at Sebastian’s face. “What would you think if I told you that’s what _he_ assumed, when I told him? That I’d been with you.”

“Hm,” Sebastian takes a long drink from his beer, as if genuinely considering the question. “I wouldn’t be surprised. He always seemed to pick up on your attraction to me more than you did, even.”

Blaine scoffs, grinning disbelievingly. “Ah, yes, my attraction to you. The reason I _didn’t_ cheat on him with you.”

“Speaking from experience? Cheating feels less guilty when there’s no feelings involved.”

Blaine regards Sebastian for a moment, opening and closing his mouth, before shaking his head. “I… I never had feelings for you, sorry.”

“Maybe not overtly.” He shrugs, nonchalantly, “always responded to my texts though.”

“Wh — because you were _literally_ incessant, Bas. Where are you going with this, exactly?”

“Because you’re a free man, now, right? No more — wife, ball and chain.” Blaine rolls his eyes at the implication of Kurt as his wife. He briefly considers what _Kurt_ would have to say about that, and he ignores the pull in his stomach, taking another sip from his straw. “I mean, correct me if I’m wrong.”

“No. I guess I am a _free man,_ ” Blaine makes air quotes with one hand, trying to ignore Sebastian’s watchful gaze. He feels so — _observed_ , like he’s prey being toyed with, or a little mouse in a lab.

“Then there’s no harm in drudging up old memories, really.” Sebastian takes another sip, drumming his fingers on the glossy, bevelled edge of the counter. “Especially such delightful memories — though, isn’t that _anything_ involved with you?”

“You’re being sycophantic,” Blaine says obviously, rolling his eyes, but he can’t help the small smile pulling at his lips.

“Maybe. But only because I have _so much_ to gain.”

“Yeah?” Blaine quirks his eyebrows, sighing a little. Something about Sebastian feels like routine; they’ve played this game a hundred times before. “And what’s that?”

“I’m just going to be very clear. It’s obvious I think you’re hot, Blaine, we both know that. And you’re newly single, and no doubt lonely,“ — and, God, is Blaine really that obvious? — “let’s just say that I’m very willing to… aid you with that.”

Blaine blinks, and puts his glass down on the sticky countertop. “Are you seriously implying what I think you’re implying? Really?”

Sebastian grins, raising his palms in surrender. “Listen — after what happened with David, I meant what I said. And I mean what I’m _saying_ — this, now. I’m not playing anymore games. Say the word and I’ll leave you alone.” At Blaine’s incredulous expression, he lowers his hands. “I’m serious, Blaine.”

Blaine looks back at his glass, pushing it around gently with one hand, the rim leaving a wet circle of condensation on the counter. He sucks in air through his teeth, and turns back to Sebastian with a scrunched up expression, like it’s painful to say — it almost is. “You _are_ kind of hot.”

Sebastian blinks, then smiles again. Kurt always joked that he looked like a meerkat, but in this moment, to Blaine, he seems more like a jaguar. “Well, then. This really _is_ a night of honesty, huh?”

Blaine shrugs, but he maintains eye contact with Sebastian; if he’s really resigning himself to playing this game — and, now that he’s a _‘free man’,_ whatever may come after it — he’s going to be an active player. “I thought you wanted to cut to the chase.”

Sebastian practically beams at that — the closest, Blaine thinks, he’ll ever get to seeing true happiness on his face — before shaking his head, and laughing softly. “Damn, Anderson. Let me finish my beer first.”

Blaine rolls his eyes, picking his Coke back up and sucking up the last few dregs — when did he even come close to finishing it? — but never taking his eyes off Sebastian. _Obviously_ he was attractive, Blaine could have told you that from the first moment he met him, but he’d always suppressed really thinking about it further, for Kurt’s sake. But, now — and, maybe it was just in the low light of the bar, the thumping sounds of some Madonna song in the background — he looked really, really good. Even in his creased _Ralph Lauren_ shirt, which was _so_ Sebastian, and _so_ boring.

Sebastian tilts his head slightly at him as he pulls off from his beer, as if trying to figure out what Blaine was thinking. Blaine stirs the ice at the bottom of his glass with the straw, before glancing up at Sebastian through his eyelashes. Yeah, if Blaine’s going to admit it to himself, Sebastian definitely is attractive.

“What’s on your mind, killer?” Sebastian asks finally, running a hand through his hair, pushing it back a little more with the film of water condensed on his palm. “Speak to me.”

“Wondering how long it takes one person to finish a beer.” Blaine answers, his voice quieter but his tone just as teasing and brusque. Sebastian barks a laugh again, taking another sip of his drink.

“Is this the broken hearted Blaine Anderson? All mean and bitter?” Sebastian raises an eyebrow, and at Blaine’s silence, he continues. “Not that it’s a bad thing. I’m actually enjoying your company more; if that’s even possible.”

“Really.” Blaine asks dryly, but he’s soaking up the praise. He rests an elbow on the edge of the counter, leaning his cheek on his palm.

“Of course. Maybe we’re more similar than you ever realised, Blainey. _Kindred spirits._ ”

Blaine grins behind his hand, looking down and away. “Are you finished yet?”

“Eager, aren’t we?” Sebastian holds his beer glass up to the light, as if examining it. He tips it back and finishes it, placing it back down on the counter. “Mm. Let’s go, then.”

Blaine stands first, and when Sebastian rises next to him, he can feel something stir in the pit of his stomach. He knew Sebastian was taller than him — he has _eyes_ — but now he’s here again, and so close, all long legs and lean muscles and trim waist. Blaine swallows thickly, and Sebastian leers down at him, eyes glinting in the low, spinning lights of the bar.

Blaine takes his hand to lead him out the bar, and Sebastian doesn’t say anything, lets himself be led, but he raises one amused eyebrow. Blaine feels a little embarrassed at the gesture; it was only force of habit, something he would’ve done without a second thought with Kurt, but at Sebastian’s reaction he feels awfully juvenile, like he’s in kindergarten or something and not a senior in high school. They slip back out the heavy door of the bar, and the bouncer doesn’t even acknowledge them, like he’s seen everything before; Blaine doesn’t want to think whether he’s used to seeing people leave together in general, or Sebastian in specific leaving with another man.

As they near Blaine’s car, Sebastian raises an eyebrow. “Are you taking me back to your house? Listen, I like you and all, but I’m not big on meeting the parents —“

“As if I would ever take you back to my home,” Blaine interrupts, scoffing. “No, we’re — let’s drive somewhere private. I have a big back seat.”

“Speaking from experience?” Sebastian asks, teasingly, but his hand flexes on the handle of the passenger’s side door. Blaine doesn’t reply, and he continues, “sounds good to me, though. I _love_ back seats. Many fond memories.”

“I’m sure you do,” Blaine mutters, fiddling the car keys with numb fingers until the doors beep and unlock.

They drive mostly in silence — in all honesty, it’s not the first time he’s driven Sebastian somewhere. He remembers, vaguely, the time he gave him a ride to his tennis practice after they’d grabbed coffee — he was surprised to learn that Bas coached tennis on the weekends, but he did bitch about it all the way; something about his parents wanting to teach him responsibility. He did look good in those short tennis whites, though, all tan legs and pale inner thighs —

“Oh, if you pull up here,” Sebastian gestures at a little, more wooded turnoff of the road they’re on. “You can follow it up to a little cliff spot. Pretty secluded.”

“You _would_ know that,” Blaine says quietly, mostly to himself, but he blinks his indicator and pulls up the path anyway. As they travel further, the path becomes dustier, grittier, and the final rounded corner brings them out to a little wooded, secluded cliff. Blaine lets out a little breath, flexing his hands on the steering wheel before glancing over to Sebastian in the passenger seat, who has shifted and is, again, looking at him like some kind of shark.

“Back seat really is much roomier,” Blaine glances down at the glossy centre console pointedly, and Sebastian just grins and raises his hands in a _you’re-right_ manner, unclicking the seatbelt and moving to get out of the car.

Blaine follows suit, pulling on the latch again, stepping out and then back in through the second door. He pulls it behind him, shuffling into a kneeling position on the backseat as he watches Sebastian climb in next to him.

They blink at each other for a second, both of them suddenly self conscious, when Sebastian cups his jaw and brings him in for a kiss. Truthfully, it is slightly unexpected; Blaine had really pegged him for the _hands-only_ type. His mouth is different from Kurt’s, obviously — somehow wider but not as warm, and he kisses hard enough to bruise. Blaine parts his lips unwittingly, and Sebastian’s tongue worms its way in almost immediately, gliding over the tip of Blaine’s as he hums into the kiss.

Blaine shuffles backwards, bringing one hand up to cup the back of Sebastian’s head, sliding his fingers into the soft hair there as he moves, their teeth clacking a little in their effort to stay together. He parts his legs and lets Sebastian slide in between them, bringing his hand in the middle of their bodies to touch at Sebastian’s crotch, feather-light.

Sebastian pulls off just as Blaine moves to deepen the kiss further, laughing softly, his breath little puffs against Blaine’s lips. “You meant it when you said you wanted to cut to the chase, huh?”

Blaine squirms indignantly on the backseat, choosing not to dignify Sebastian with a response and leaning in to kiss him again. He inches his hand upwards, but when he moves to slip his hand down the front of Sebastian’s jeans, he realises they’re pulled taut to his hips by a belt. He’s not surprised he missed out on a detail like that, feeling buzzed and heady from the kissing and the heat of Sebastian’s chest against his — it’s been a while. He thinks back to some off-hand comment Santana made once, at lunch — something about being a lizard and thriving off of body heat? He smiles amusedly against Sebastian’s lips — Sebastian, who seems to take it as a compliment and brings his hand up to cup Blaine’s jaw again, tilting his head until his nose presses, cold, against Blaine’s cheek.

Blaine pulls off suddenly, tilting his head back as far as he can, until it hits the steamed window, so that he can look at Sebastian’s face. He fights back a smug grin at the flush along Sebastian’s cheeks, and the tip of his nose, instead choosing to ask, breathy; “Can I blow you?”

Sebastian blinks, then smiles slowly, nodding. “Wow. Thought you’d never ask.”

Blaine rolls his eyes, leaning forward and pressing another kiss to Sebastian’s lips before pushing him back so that he can clamber over his knees and sink to the strip of floor in the cramped interior of the backseat, shuffling so his foot is no longer pressed at an awkward angle.

He glances up at Sebastian, who looks sufficiently ruffled; his hair mussed, his shirt untucked, grinning blithely down at him. Blaine doesn’t even try to hide his self-satisfied smile this time, turning his attention instead to Sebastian’s belt — he could almost laugh, _Gucci_ , of course —biting his lip in concentration as he slides the leather back from the belt loops, the clink of the gold metal as he pulls the prong out of the hole, and pulls the strap fully away from Sebastian’s hips. It feels shockingly intimate, undressing someone else in such a careful, slow, deliberate manner, and he tightens his grip on the bound leather to stop his hands shaking.

He goes to throw the belt into the front seat, over his shoulder, but Sebastian brings his arm out to grab his wrist. “Hey, be careful with that, it’s —“

“Gucci, yes, I have eyes, Sebastian.” Blaine mutters, rising up on his haunches to place it more carefully in the seat, turning back to Sebastian with his best mocking expression.

Sebastian either doesn’t notice Blaine’s sardonicism, or chooses to ignore it, instead silently lifting his hips as Blaine unzips his jeans and pulls both them and Sebastian’s boxers down, just to his mid-thighs, to reveal his cock.

Blaine takes one appraising hand and holds it at the base, upright, looking between it and Sebastian’s face; it’s relatively proportional, thinner but making up for it in above-average length. Blaine shuffles forwards (as much as he can in the cramped space between the seats and the back of the driver’s seat) on his knees, settling himself between Sebastian’s legs, bringing his forearm up to rest on Bas’ thigh as he leans in. He shoots one last glance at Sebastian through his eyelashes, swallowing and trying to look as sultry as possible, before closing his eyes and sinking his mouth slowly over the head of Sebastian’s dick.

Sebastian gasps, and keens his hips a little, bringing one hand down to tug through Blaine’s hair. Blaine brings his free hand up from where he it had been hanging off the edge of Sebastian’s thigh to bat his hand away — sure, he’s going to be washing the gel out as soon as he gets back, anyway, but he doesn’t need _apparent_ sex hair to go home with. Maybe if it was Kurt, a niggling part of his mind thinks, maybe if it was Kurt, he’d let him — rake his fingers through his hair, break up the gel, wrap a proprietary finger around where it curls at the edges, dislodged by sweat. But it’s not Kurt, it’s just Sebastian.

He pulls off to lick his palm slowly, blinking innocently up at Sebastian whilst he does, before working it around the head of Sebastian’s cock once, gathering the spit already accumulated there, before dragging his hand up and down his dick until he holds it still at the base. He moves forward again, but this time when he sucks wetly on the tip of Sebastian’s cock, he can jerk the rest of him off, too.

Sebastian has started making soft, little breathy sounds that shoot directly to Blaine’s dick, which has been stirring in his boxers the entire time. He’d be fully lying if he said he didn’t get off on blowing someone at all, and it would be more of a lie to say that he didn’t objectively enjoy doing it. He sits up a little more on his knees, slowly adjusting his jaw and working his mouth further down, dragging his wet palm up and down what he can’t reach just yet.

It’s silent outside, and the car’s engine is stilled, so there’s no longer any background noise of the car radio. Blaine can’t help but cringe inwardly at the obscene _slurping_ noises that accompany blowjobs, but Sebastian doesn’t seem to mind, moaning appreciatively. He drags his tongue along the underside as he pulls back upwards, focusing on the head and wiggling his tongue underneath, swallowing the excess spit accumulating in his mouth. He pulls off for air, breathing a little heavier now, moving his hand deftly over Sebastian as he strokes him, and he meets Sebastian’s gaze again, finally. His eyes are lidded, now, and his mouth has fallen open a little more, his face still obviously flushed in the dim light of the car, only illuminated by the moon.

“You’re so hot,” Blaine says, without fully meaning to, and Sebastian swallows, grinning and raising one hand to scrub over his face.

“Isn’t that my line? You’re the one blowing me.”

Blaine raises his free hand, as if to flick away the thought, instead leaning forward and licking broadly up Sebastian’s length, large, bold strips, like a dog. It tastes a little salty-bitter from where he’d jacked him off, spreading the pre-come across his dick, but he presses open-mouthed kisses along his shaft anyway, before sucking the head back into his mouth. He swallows unconsciously, and Sebastian groans again, his hips bucking a little. Blaine rolls his eyes before shutting them again, bringing up one hand to hold Sebastian’s hip to the leather seat.

Blaine concentrates on breathing through his nose, and then slowly sinks his mouth down to the hilt of Sebastian’s dick, trying to relax his throat as much as possible until he can bury his nose in the hair at the base of Sebastian’s cock. Sebastian lets out another whimper, moving his hand to the back of Blaine’s head, touching there, feather-light, only momentarily, before seemingly thinking better of it, and bringing his hand to the nape of Blaine’s neck to squeeze appreciatively. Blaine feels his eyes beginning to get watery, and he squeezes them shut, before pulling up and off again, gasping shallowly for air. He moves his hand from where he had been gripping Sebastian’s cock at the base to jerk him off again, squeezing his hand rhythmically as he moves.

“I’d be embarrassed that I’m this close already, but you’re fucking sexy, Blaine.” Blaine drags his gaze from Sebastian’s dick to his face again — his pupils are blown now, and he gestures a little to his dick. “I’m seriously close.”

Blaine speeds up his movement, pulling the head into his mouth again and sucking shallowly, hollowing his cheeks. He sinks lower, midway down Sebastian’s cock, and he swirls his tongue around the circumference and tip, not slowing when Sebastian’s hand finds his shoulder again and squeezes. “Shit, Blaine — I’m going to —“

Blaine pulls off just as Sebastian’s hips buck upwards again, and he comes over Blaine’s fist and a little on Blaine’s chin, where he hadn’t moved away fully. Blaine just strokes him through his orgasm, eyes fixated on Sebastian’s cock, where it twitches, oversensitive, in his grip.

Sebastian is still peering down at him, his chest rising and falling with short, languid breaths, and he smiles a little — not in his usual, leering way, but in a more tender, post-orgasm sated way. Blaine bites back a comment about how it suits him more; he’s pretty sure if he alerted Sebastian to the fact that he was doing it at all, he’d stop.

“You have a little on your chin,” Sebastian says, amusedly, bringing a finger up and miming at his face. Blaine wipes at his chin with the pad of his thumb and licks it off, before dragging his tongue along the back of his thumb and his hand. Sebastian just continues to watch him with wide eyes, but then he snorts a little. “Dude, gross.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say the word ‘dude’,” Blaine says, wrinkling his nose a little at the taste. Sebastian just rolls his eyes in return.

“Probably have. C’mere,” he shuffles to the side and gestures for Blaine to join him on the leather seat of the car. As Blaine rises, his knees groan in protest from where he’d been crouched in an awkward position all that time.

Sebastian pulls him in closer, wrapping his arm loosely around Blaine’s shoulders, and he leans in for a chaste kiss. “Thank you for doing that,” he says quietly, and again, almost tenderly.

“It’s whatever. I like doing it,” Blaine says, croakily. His throat is still a little sore.

“You’re good at it, too,” Sebastian says blithely, kissing at Blaine’s cheekbone, his temple, as his hand worms its way down to the front of his chinos. The button is already undone, and when he pushes his hand down the front of both the trousers and Blaine’s boxer briefs, the zip gives way.

“You can stop with the flattery now, Bas. I’ve already blown you.”

He can feel Sebastian’s chuckle, hot against the skin of his cheek. “No, I actually meant that one. You’re _very_ good.” He tugs Blaine’s cock out of his underwear, pulling his hand up to spit in his palm before wrapping his hand around Blaine’s dick again. Blaine bucks his hips up almost instantly, and Sebastian laughs again, self-satisfied. It’s been too long since someone’s touched him there, aside from his own right hand, and he had forgotten how electric, how unpredictable even the gentlest touch can feel.

“You’re so hard. Are you close already?” Sebastian noses as Blaine’s temple, his lips curved into a smile against the skin, and Blaine nods breathlessly, shifting his hips again as Sebastian tightens and loosens his grip as he works his hand over Blaine’s shaft. “Mm, were you getting off on blowing me? That’s so hot, Blaine. You’re so hot. So good. So good for me.”

Blaine cranes his neck so he can kiss Sebastian again — not because what he’s saying isn’t sexy, because, weirdly, it’s a massive turn on, but because he just needs it to feel grounded. When they kiss again, awkward because of the angle, it somehow heightens the simple sensation of Sebastian’s hand on his cock, everything becoming overwhelming and sharper; the feel of Sebastian’s nose against his cheek, warmer now from the steamy atmosphere of the car; the drag of Sebastian’s palm as he twists his wrist on the pull upwards; Sebastian’s free hand, brought up to cup his face, his nimble fingers pressing right into the tender spot at the back of Blaine’s jaw, making him moan into Bas’ mouth.

Blaine’s hips stutter upwards again, and he grips at Sebastian’s bicep as a wordless warning, before he comes over Sebastian’s fist and the thin strip of his stomach revealed where his sweater has rucked up in the movement. He groans, panting, and lets his head fall against Sebastian’s shoulder as he tries to catch his breath.

Sebastian gives his cock one last squeeze, before he pulls his hand up and away, holding out from him like it’s dirty. “Do you have a towel or something?”

Blaine fixes him with an incredulous look, still trying to catch his breath and fight the sleepiness encroaching in his post-orgasm haze. “Yes, Sebastian, because I keep a cumrag in my car for moments _just_ like this.”

Sebastian shrugs. “I do.” He moves as if to wipe his hand on Blaine’s sweater, and Blaine starts and laughs, shimmying away from him on the seats, as best he can with his chinos pulled low on his hips.

“Don’t you dare. This is _Brooks Brothers_.” Sebastian grins back at him in response, instead lifting the hem of his own shirt and wiping his hand on the interior. Blaine wrinkles his nose at it anyway, but better Sebastian than him.

“God, even though you two broke up, Kurt really rubbed off on you, huh?” Sebastian glances up again as he speaks, and Blaine’s face must betray his dismay at being reminded of Kurt, because Bas’ gaze softens again. “Sorry. Sore subject, I get it.”

“Do you need a ride home?” Blaine offers, because — really, he’s just had Sebastian’s dick in his mouth, the least he can do is offer him a lift. Sebastian just shakes his head.

“Oh, no, thanks. You can just take me back to Scandals and I’ll call a cab.” He turns to open the door again, but then tips his head thoughtfully, as if wondering whether to offer up an explanation. “My mom is used to seeing taxis outside our house this time of night — if she saw a normal car she’d probably start asking questions.”

Blaine nods, and watches Sebastian get out the car as he pulls his own chinos back up and buttons them again. Through the tinted backwindows of his car he can see Sebastian looping his belt back through his jeans and fastening the gold Gucci logo of the buckle. He smiles amusedly again; _so_ Sebastian.

Similarly to the drive there, they’re mostly silent on the way back to Scandals. Sebastian calls a cab on his cell-phone as Blaine drives, and they only really exchange an awkward smile when Blaine pulls up outside the bar’s parking lot, pulling on the handbrake.

Sebastian gets out and walks around to the driver’s side, where Blaine has wound down the window. He smirks at him again, and then leans in through the window to give Blaine another chaste kiss, with that same earlier softness of his post-orgasm. Blaine doesn’t think it will ever stop being surprising.

“Listen, don’t be afraid to call me, killer. I’d be up for a repeat if you were.”

“Sure,” Blaine just nods, blinking at Sebastian as he walks back up to the bar to wait for his cab, leaning against the wall.

What _would_ Kurt say?

**Author's Note:**

> title from mitski's 'come into the water'
> 
> considering how much emphasis i put on seb.. getting around.. they should have used a condom but i really forgot to write it in until i was going back and editing. always use a condom unless ur in a committed relationship, even for blowjobs! don't get the herp! practice safe sex! learn from artie abrams' mistakes!
> 
> find me on tumblr: himbosamevans.tumblr.com :)


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